


healthy glow

by pseudocitrus



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, Makeup, ayahina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no one in Aogiri who Ayato thinks could be reasonably described as “beautiful,” and no reason why there should be. Beauty isn’t anything to strive for here.</p>
<p>But…</p>
<p>One day, Hinami isn’t anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	healthy glow

**Author's Note:**

> done for a prompt on tumblr where ayato puts makeup on hina~
> 
> hope you're having a good day!

There’s no one in Aogiri who Ayato thinks could be reasonably described as “beautiful,” and no reason why there should be. Beauty isn’t anything to strive for here.

But…

One day, Hinami isn’t anywhere.

“Little brat,” Ayato grumbles. He only finds her after a good hour’s search through the compound, having followed the sound of an unmistakably wimpy-sounding voice straight into…

Of course. Only Hinami would be able to sweet-talk her way into Eto’s fancy “office.” Ayato bats furiously at the steam spewing out of the cracked-open door, and it open.

“Hey,” he growls, “where the hell —”

He chokes to a halt. This room — Hinami isn’t here at all. There are two women in it. Mostly-naked women.

“Ah,” one of them chirps, “Ayato-kun,” and Ayato raises his arm over his face, like a shield.

“A-ah — uh — um —”

“It’s alright,” one says, “we have towels,” and Ayato makes himself lower his arm with a heavy swallow, makes himself squint through the steam. Soon, he realizes he’s made another mistake.

One of those women is _Hinami._

“How does she look?” Eto asks, twirling some kind of brush in her hand, and Ayato thinks, _Don’t you dare fucking look_ and in the next moment finds it incredibly difficult to peel his eyes away. Hinami — Hinami is —

Kind of —

Really —

“Looks like you wash up okay after all,” Ayato stammers, and Hinami smiles weakly.

“Thanks.”

:::

_Why the fuck?_

He flees soon after, but spends the rest of the afternoon (and the next couple days) in a sort of helpless, stifled panic.

_Why?_

He can piece together most of the narrative. Hinami is always hauling around magazines whenever HQ transfers. And Eto always has a nice bathroom, and extra special time to lavish on Hinami’s tiny whims. Probably Hinami just asked, and Eto sat down and did it. Foundation. Glittery, doll-pink blush. Painted-out lashes, lips as glossy as water.

But — _why_?

There’s no reason for it that he can think of, and the panic hardens out inside of him into a kind of dread. He starts flipping through the faces of all their recent recruits, but can’t think of anyone that could possibly have caught her attention.

W-well — wait — who was that one person? The new one — one of Naki’s? That person was kind of hot, right? Even Ayato had been kind of taken aback. And hadn’t Hinami gone out of her way to say something really nice about them?

Ayato grits his teeth. Hinami gives compliments to everyone.

Except…sort of…him.

:::

_It’s for her own good,_ he thinks, prowling around the edges of her assigned room. Who knows if some weirdo is taking advantage of her? He makes a check for anyone with a good vantage point on her door and kicks them out. He is vaguely satisfied and is on his way to go hunting when he hears a small, wimpy-sounding curse coming from behind her door.

He hesitates, and then knocks.

“Are you okay in there?”

“U-uh — um — yeah,” Hinami replies, but it’s a little too late — the door wasn’t secured — the thing squeals open. She gasps and fumbles, and Ayato can’t help it; he busts out a fat laugh.

“What the hell are you _doing_?”

“Nothing,” Hinami says, “n-nothing,” but her voice is muffled a bit, from behind her hand. She’s on her cot, cross-legged and surrounded by bottles and a spread-open magazine. Her face is completely red, not just from blushing but from actual blush that has been smeared all over it.

Seeing that she’s been exposed, Hinami lowers her hands to reveal lips that are pursed and a sort of garish violet.

“I messed up,” she admits stiffly.

“Yeah,” Ayato snorts. “Obviously. You look like you belong with the Clowns. What an idiot. Weren’t you even watching when Eto did it?”

Hinami gets a little redder. “Yeah. B-but it’s hard.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not.” He leaves, with a loud sigh, and returns with a water bottle, and soap, and a bowl.

“Wash it all off,” he instructs her, and Hinami blinks at him and then does it, foaming up a washcloth and scrubbing at her face until her skin is scraped up but clean.

Ayato shoves over all the bottles and shit to make space for himself to sit. He reaches for the case of foundation, and Hinami stiffens.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he asks. He lets her wonder about it a little, and then gets impatient. “I’m helping you, okay? Face me already.”

She does. Ayato smears stuff onto the sponge and then makes a test swipe on her cheek. The color is pretty good, actually. He starts evening it all out across her face, feels her swallow as he does a little of her neck too.

“It’s easy,” Ayato tells her, picking up a brush and sweeping the fibers across his wrist. He starts searching for blush, picking up bottles and flicking the bad hues away across the bed. “You just need to not overdo it.”

“How do you know?” she asks, a little accusing, and he grimaces. No use telling her how often Aneki left him alone with nothing to do but look through all the magazines her stupid friend kept leaving in their apartment. And probably it’s not worth telling her about all the times Nico nagged him until he acquiesced to be used for “practice.”

“It’s common sense,” he decides.

After that, there’s not much said, mostly because Ayato is concentrating, eyes narrow and breathing shallow so as not to upset the various powders. Hinami remains very, very still, and he tries not to think too much about things like how soft her cheek is against the pad of his hand, or how warm it is either.

Pinks, light browns. He swabs gloss into a brush and takes a breath that he hopes sounds like a normal kind of breath before slipping it across her lips and asking her to press them together. Afterward, he examines her face, and smears away just a little bit of blush with his thumb.

“There,” he says, and hands over her cheap compact after huffing on it and rubbing it on his jacket. “What do you think?”

Hinami looks at herself in the mirror, and her eyes widen, and widen a little more. She tilts her head left and right. Ayato clears his throat. He’d dammed up self-consciousness up behind his concentration; now that it’s gone, he feels it welling, threatening to crush.

“Well?” he snaps. “It’s better than what Eto did, right? She made you look way too old.”

“I…yeah…I was thinking that,” Hinami admits. She takes a breath, and then claps the compact shut and turns toward him, with a smile. He scowls at her, and stands, smacking his hands together to rid them of all the cosmetic detritus.

“Whatever.” He starts to leave, and then loses his nerve and whirls back around, heel squeaking on the floor.

“So?” he demands. “Do you like it or not?”

“Oh. I…um…” Hinami squirms a little on the bed. “Well…do _you_  like it?”

What is she getting at? “Of course I do,” Ayato tells her, suspiciously, and Hinami breams.

“Then…then, yes! I like it a lot. Thanks,” she adds, and that’s it, he supposes, that’s all she’s going to give him. Ayato frowns and turns away again, and is almost out when suddenly he hears…a strong-sounding voice.

“Ayato-kun,” Hinami calls. “You were doing it…a little fast this time, still. Is it okay…if you show me again tomorrow? How to put it all on? Since you’re so good at it.”

His heart leaps. “Yeah,” Ayato tells her, wringing his voice out into a low monotone. “Sure. Whatever.”


End file.
